


On Creation

by LadyStarwing



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Mild Spoilers, Other, Sarnai Valhourdin knows how to wrangle smarmy assholes, except not really for anything in the plot it's just Shadowbringers timeframe, platonic, vague timing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 16:44:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20998049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyStarwing/pseuds/LadyStarwing
Summary: Strange lands lead to strange 'allies', with a surprisingly similar fondness for craftsmanship. Even if the preferred methods differ, it's at least a common ground.





	On Creation

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this out one night on a whim after beating Shadwobringers main MSQ and thinking about how one of my three Warriors of Light would interact with Emet-Selch one on one, in a context a bit more open than just what the game allows us in dialog options. Sarnai felt like the easiest one (as she's a machinist/mechanic by trade), and this spawned as a result. I feel bad that there's not much ABOUT Sarnai as a character/her background, but it doesn't feel really necessary here.

The smell of grease and the squeaking of gears was a comfort, one that Sarnai took solace in even on this strange fragment of reality. The automaton in front of her was half finished, blueprints and scattered notes on her table where she could read them at a glance. The aetherotransformer and rook autoturret rested there as well, the rook nestled into a charge base she had mashed together from scraps that she found in the Crystal Tower. 

‘Perhaps it’s best I’m here for a while,’ the bemused thought crossed her head as she checked the joint that she had been attempting to weld together. ‘Stephinvien would prolly hover about me until I got this done, and that’s not something I want right now’. Satisfied when the notes made sense with what she was doing, Sarnai set down her wrench; she needed that aether-charged carbonfiber now, and it had disappeared on her. 

“I must say, I did not think the Exarch would let you raid the tower for leftover scraps.” 

A groan tried to escape Sarnai at the voice, one she bit back as she poked her head around the half-made automaton to make sure she was correct as to who was speaking. Her suspicions were confirmed as Emet-Selch sauntered out of the empty air, the Ascian’s face set in his usual smug expression. 

He hadn’t said anything to warrant a thrown wrench, so Sarnai merely cocked an eyebrow at him. “And I’m surprised you came looking for me,” she replied, her short tail tapping against the stool she sat on. “Especially since you don’t seem to understand the concept of knocking; is etiquette not a priority in your order, or are you a special case?” 

There was a responding shrug, Emet’s mouth shifting to a wan smile. “Well, at least  _ one  _ of your company can manage a civil greeting; the next best one in that dragon child, and even I find that stare of hers unnerving after too long,” he sat on an unoccupied table as he spoke, seemingly uncaring of how close his elaborate coat was to lubrication oil and a small vat of aetherial coating. “The rest give insults easier than compliments as of late, sadly.” 

Sarnai gave a shrug and ducked back behind her automaton. “I’m impressed you can tell when Urianger is tossing japes; I think he confused even the pixies at times.” She drawled, scanning for the carbonfiber again. It wasn’t in her vicinity, and she glanced up at Emet instead. “Do you see a spindle of wire on that table or behind your coattails? I need to treat it and thread it in the forearm.” 

Emet blinked at her, and Sarnai couldn’t tell if it was confusion at her request or surprise she hadn’t barbed him. What surprised her was when he didn’t press it, and instead did exactly as she asked. “Ah, this?” He spoke up after a moment’s worth of shuffling fabric, twirling the carbonfiber on a finger. “For such a limited intellect, this is quite the impressive creation.” 

“And coming from your mouth, I’ll take that as a compliment.” Sarnai stuck her hand out to catch the carbonfiber as Emet tossed it to her. It caught easily, and she did a quick check of her notes. “That long, three fibers per side …” 

There was a chuckle as she started to unwind the fiber, and she glanced up at Emet. “ _ And  _ you can accept a compliment; did all of the collective intellect get stuck in your skull?” he waved his hand at the automaton, and Sarnai was surprised at the tone of delight in his voice as he spoke again. “I wagered you had a fair amount to create something nearly this elaborate, but not all of it.” 

“No, I’ve just grown up in a nation full of people with your sort of wit.” Sarnai couldn’t help the smile that crossed her face at the exchange, and she leaned over the completed parts of her project to grin at the Ascian. “There’s an entire noble family full of your type of personality back home, and others aside from them; I would like to think I have something of a grasp on inflection.” 

He seemed amused by that as well, from the way he settled on her table again. “A valuable life skill, one that’s clearly served you well,” a touch of sincerity had crept into his voice, one that he seemed to miss as he plucked a notebook up and opened it. Sarnai didn’t protest; that wasn’t one of the ones she needed at present, so as long as Emet didn’t abscond with it, he could flip through it at his leisure. She turned her head back to her fibers and half finished arm. 

Silence fell, and both the upper and lower fibers lined the mythril skeleton readily. A quick swipe of a cloth, and the first layer of coating was on them; she would have to wait a quarter-bell to apply the second coat, and then she’d have to insulate them. Only then could she fanangle the metallic shell onto it, which suited her just fine; it gave her more time to iron out any issues that might arise. 

Emet glanced up from the notebook as she stood, sweat on her brow. “Break time?” He mused aloud, eyebrows raised. When Sarnai gave a nod, he stood up and set the notebook down before taking a step to the automaton. He circled once, then twice, arms folded behind his back like a school instructor. “This is quite a departure from any Allagan or Garlean design,” he remarked as he finished the second circle, gaze shifted to Sarnai as she took a sip of water from her mug. 

Ringed gold eyes met sand colored ones, and she shrugged in response. “I didn’t want to make some ridiculous monstrosity to stomp in daisy fields with.” Sarnai responded as she set the mug down, “I just wanted something to help out on the battlefield when Minami slamming into things isn’t quite enough.” 

“That explains that monstrous drill next to you, then,” Emet nodded at the object in question at that. “But quite frankly, I figured that dragon child could shred a mountain if angered enough.” 

“Yes, but her in a berserk state is bad for her health and general morale.” Sarnai shook her head. “Even then, her body has limits; just because she  _ can  _ crush Ishgardian plate mail with her tail doesn’t mean she  _ should  _ on a regular basis. That or Sin Eaters.” 

“A fair concern, that,” Emet’s voice was somewhere between sincere and distracted, a strange combination that made Sarnai tilt her head at that. He didn’t continue that train of thought, and instead gave her a disarmingly gentle smile. “If you’re in such a rush, perhaps I could assist?” 

“... What?” 

There was a flicker of annoyance in Emet’s eyes, but it went away as he chuckled. “For once, I understand that base response.” he shrugged, head tilted as he continued to watch Sarnai; it almost reminded her of an owl she’d seen in a chocobo stable, curious in a way that bespoke of an advantage only they knew. “I admit I’d have to see more of your smudged notes to figure out what you mean to do, but it shouldn’t take much more than that as long as you have all the materials.” 

Sarnai blinked in response as her arms folded across her chest, one hand playing with a suspender. “And by assist, do you mean ‘snap your fingers and magic it all together’?” She asked, perplexed, “Or actually getting out of that pomous coat and getting grimy?” She resisted the urge to ask how he didn’t overheat in that ridiculous ensemble, eyeing it more critically. 

It made her miss Grinnaux keenly, a dull ache deep in her heart; he’d probably be plucking at Emet’s coat the entire time, if not lecturing him for wearing what had to be a fortune in silk and fur in a room full of mechanical mess. And it would certainly lead for interesting conversations, but Sarnai knew that Grinnaux would have just as soon throttled Emet for daring to insinuate Sarnai wasn’t capable of doing things herself. 

As it were, Emet scoffed, another chuckle escaping him. “Your first guess was correct; finishing up an automaton of such small size would be simple, and then you could deploy it the next time you need.” He nodded, waggling a finger in Sarnai’s direction. “I’d follow your blueprints to the letter, minus obvious flaws, if that is your concern.” 

That made Sarnai pause as she chewed her lower lip, fidgeting with the leather and silver between her fingers more. She didn’t doubt Emet could do what he claimed; he had plucked Y’sthola from the Lifestream in a mere fragment of the time and effort it had taken the Padjali and Y’mithra - clothes included. But something about the offer felt off. “And what would you want in exchange?” she asked, searching the Ascian with wary eyes. 

“Nothing.” 

She had to shake her head at that, making sure she had heard correctly. Emet was clearly amused at that, for he laughed when Sarnai stared at him. “You didn’t mishear me; your ability to craft and create is beyond what I expected for such a small fragment of a soul, and I can respect that.” He elaborated, gesturing behind him. “If that notebook is only a small sample of what you’ve been trying to create, then it’s only fair I offer some hand in it.” 

A wistful, almost nostalgic tone had crept into his voice, and Emet stared past Sarnai at something only he seemed to see. “Wouldn’t it be nice to just snap your fingers and have the creations of your mind manifest before you? You clearly have the focus to make it work, so you won’t get distracted and make a sentient tea-boiler prone to scalding one’s undergarments because of a rumbling stomach.” 

It was those words that made things in Sarnai’s head click. She let silence fall as she contemplated how best to word her answer, a habit from her brother that she at long last understood. Emet didn’t seem to be making this offer out of an agenda, not from how he had simply poured over her notes in curiosity; creation seemed to matter to him, as something other than part of tempering from Zodiark. 

She sighed in spite of herself, and shook her head. “I … will have to politely decline. And disagree.” Sarnai said at long last, head lifted to make Emet look her in the eye. 

Both of his eyebrows rose at that, such genuine confusion in his face that it made him look far more human than Sarnai had anticipated. “You’d … rather work and sweat hours upon hours into one project rather than just have it done and over with?” 

“Yeah; it’s … more satisfying? At least to me.” Sarnai admitted as she looked to her myriad notes again. “All that time and work invested into something makes it  _ mean  _ something. What worked in making it, what didn’t work, what I could use to make it work in other situations … I couldn’t get that through your creation magic.” Her hands sought out the Rook autoturret without thought, and smiled at it. “There’s something fun in the hard work, in the sweat and grease.” 

Emet was silent, something so uncommon that Sarnai glanced up at him. He was staring at her in a way she couldn’t quite describe; there was a quiet understanding there, true, but she could also see a strange pain and what she swore was  _ nostalgia  _ before he blinked. The emotions were gone when his sand colored eyes found her gold ones again, and he gave a shrug. “Very well; you were at least polite, so I won’t push it.” His voice had a twinge of disappointment, and it made Sarnai feel bad for him. 

He felt so much like a Dzemael in that moment her guard fell away. “That doesn’t mean you can’t critique the notes, though; this is the first really big project I’m making largely on my own, and I want to make sure my idea for powering the Queen here works.” she tapped the finished head of the automaton as she spoke, a smile trying to steal over her face. 

She was answered with a bemused snort, Emet’s smarm stealing back over his face. “The ‘Queen’, is it?” he drawled as he looked as well. “Quite a simple name, if a bit nonsensical.” 

“Well, this little fellow is called the Rook,” Sarnai waved the autoturret as she spoke before she set it aside. “And my boss has a small, round one that he’s been trying to fine tune that he calls a Bishop; he just really enjoys chess.” 

That drew a second snort out of Emet. “I salute you for at least sticking to a thematic then.” he commented, a few seconds of silence following before he shook his head and stuck o ut a hand. “Those notes, then; you might want to go eat food while I try to decipher your smudged basilisk scratch that you deign to call handwriting.” 

Sarnai couldn’t help herself, and lightly bapped Emet on the head with the notebook before handing it over. “If it’s that much of a pain in the arse, then conjure up a non-smudging quill then. Eorzean isn’t exactly easy to write clearly when one is left handed.” She quipped as she left; he was right about her needing food. The sound of Emet grumbling about ‘sarcasting whelps’ followed her back as she left, and it made Sarnai snort her amusement. 

But all the same, when she came back from a meal a bell later, Sarnai found a simple black stick with what looked like a clip on one end atop her notebook. Emet was nowhere to be found; she didn’t doubt he had sauntered his way out to heckle some other poor soul. There was however a note under the stick, and she unfolded it while examining the strange object - a silver rose was wrapped around it, a detail that made her snort. The note was also brief, and still dripped with Emet’s smug presence. 

_ As requested, a pen to remedy your atrocious writing. You click on the clasp to write with it, and then flick the clip up when you’re done; it’ll dry out otherwise. It’ll keep your hand from getting dirtied, and spare anyone reading your works the headache I gained deciphering this nonsense. Nonetheless, the notes for your ‘Queen’ have been reviewed, and you’ll find my commentary on the back flap.  _

Sarnai chuckled at that and did as instructed; a click of the clasp produced an ink covered tip, and a scribble on scrap paper followed by a swipe of her hand left her blinking at how dry the ink was. A few moments of playing with it later with unchanged results had her grinning as she retracted the pen tip. The black pen was tucked into her pocket as she went to read his review; she didn’t want to lose it. 

She would also have to heckle him for a spare one to pull apart next time Emet deigned to appear in her workshop; it wasn’t fair if she didn’t know how this pen  _ worked,  _ after all. 


End file.
